On a winter Saturday, the MakerLab at CELEB — Beloit’s downtown Center for Entrepreneurship — was abuzz with activity. The Beloit Science Fiction and Fantasy Association was hosting their Live Action Role-Play (LARP) Workshop — a chance for students to learn about the tools available in the MakerLab by creating their own custom foam weapon.

When I arrived, I was more than a little nervous. Crafts — or really any kind of physical design — definitely aren’t my area of expertise. I wasn’t even exactly sure why I had decided to attend. I started to have second thoughts as I ascended up to the third floor alongside a half dozen other attendees. What if I wasn’t good at it? What if I messed something up?

I assessed the tables students had prepared, covering them over with kraft paper, while listening to an explanation of how we would create our weapons. We would cut two identical sides from a sheet of foam, then use the workshop’s dremel — a small, spinning rotary saw — to cut a cavity in both sides where we would insert a wooden dowel rod that gives the weapon structure. Next, we’d use contact cement to seal the two sides together with the rod in the middle. Finally, we’d paint the foam over with glue to stiffen it, wait for it to dry, and paint it.

There was limited space at the table where people were cutting out the foam bases of their weapons, and I was hesitant. Students excitedly discussed the kinds of weapons they would make. Even though I understood the steps, I lingered. There were templates for sword hilts, but many had more innovative concepts in mind. One person was working on an axe; another decided to make a sickle. 

The atmosphere was encouraging, friendly, and, above all, welcoming. Caught up in the action, I steadied my nerves and stepped forward, outlining the hilt of a shortsword in pencil, then drawing the shape of my weapon’s blade.

After I had cut out the shape of the hilt, I went over to the dremel. The experience shaving the shallow hole went from nerve-wracking to spellbinding as I felt myself start to understand how to angle the spinning blade to get the best, most even gouge possible in the surface of the foam. In the end, I held up my dagger, admiring its hook-shaped end styled like a candy cane, with alternating red and white stripes. Admittedly, the design was far from flawless, but the imperfections made it mine. I built something unique.

I took a chance on a new experience, and it didn’t matter that I wasn’t good at it. There were people willing to help me learn and support me through the process. Along the way I learned about the possibilities available in the MakerLab, a space I hadn’t previously used.

Now, that dagger hangs on my room’s wall. It’s a reminder of that experience. The result might not have been perfect, but I’m still proud of it, because of what it represents: a choice to get involved and take a risk.